


The Pizza Will Never Get Delivered

by orphan_account



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Humor, Implied A Lot Of Things, Implied Masturbation, Implied Romance, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Porn Watching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:44:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Human porn gives Thundercracker some ideas. Terrible, sexy ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Problem With Porn

**Author's Note:**

> This started as just a couple of ficlets I hadn't really intended to show off, so apologies if it's rough. It sort of works within IDW canon timeline. Maybe.

Eighteen months. More than eighteen months, really, if you counted when Swindle turned on the Autobots and everything went down in a trainwreck and Thundercracker came back to his hidey hole.   
  
So much time spent watching human television.  
  
The apathy lay in his circuits and his spark and his inability to move his joints away. At first it was because he was injured and couldn’t do anything else. Then it was because he told himself he was preserving energy. And finally it was because he realized he found television fascinating, and in the creeping, oppressive weight of his depression it was the only thing that made him smile.  
  
He didn’t want to do anything but sit there and watch sitcoms and nature shows, old movies and news programs, new dramas and reruns, cop shows and cartoons. Sometimes Thundercracker would get obsessed with a certain type of television, like when he spent three weeks watching nothing but reality tv, or a month watching Spanish soaps. Or when he discovered porn.  
  
Early in his exile, when the night was dark and the infomercials were intolerably boring, Thundercracker hacked into a channel he hadn’t seen before. At first, like many discoveries on this planet, he was torn between appalled and confused at the moaning, pressing, moving naked bodies on screen.  
  
It took him a few moments to understand what it was. He felt his systems warm a little, torn between fascinated curiosity and embarrassment. They filmed this stuff?  
  
Later he’d realize humans would put sex scenes into everything, and Thundercracker started to learn the language and the cues and he would compare it to interfacing, noting how human sex differed from his own.   
  
Sometimes he was uncomfortably aware that certain pornography actually aroused him. He wasn’t sure where getting turned on by an alien species from filmed sex fell on the honor scale, but on the other hand it was something that could fight through his apathy and listlessness and get him to _feel_  something.  
  
After a while, porn became one of those things Thundercracker fit into his schedule, and for a few months it was a regular thing and he was less obsessed.  
  
Then one day he had a visitor, a small, yellow Autobot, who came and left and made Thundercracker leave for a while. Shenanigans happened. It was a long story.  
  
Afterwards, he came back to his hidey-hole and stared at his screens, trying not to think about other transformers – Thundercracker just wanted to be left alone. It was easier, better to be left alone. They only ever talked to him when they needed something from him anyway. It was always that way, he realized. He was always the extra, the plot device character.  
  
And just as the seeker couldn’t keep the thoughts of how he totally wasn’t lonely from his brain, his programmed schedule switched to its daily allotment of porn.   
  
Thundercracker tried to concentrate on just watching it, he tried to detach himself – but a pervasive little thought kept coming up.  
  
 _Pizza delivery!_  
  
 _Coming – oh, Bumblebee, what are you doing in my doorway?_  
  
 _Delivering a pizza._  
  
 _Oh huh. Wait a minute, I didn’t order a pizza – I don’t have any money!_  
  
 _Is that so? Well, I can think of one way you can pay for it…_  
  
Stop!  _Stop_! Stop thinking about Autobots that way. Even _if_ the war was over and Thundercracker didn’t want to fight anymore. And he was lonely. And the only person that seemed to have remembered and thought about him was one of them –  
  
Not that, Thundercracker reminded himself sternly, Bumblebee thought of him that way. **He** hadn’t thought of the bot that way until an unfortunate timing of television. No, the only reason why he’d been sought out was because he was needed for something.  
  
(Needed… for sex?)  
  
Stop that! He stood up, turning off the television and getting away from the  _sounds_  and  _positions_  they were making on it. He stood there, glaring at the empty screen and trying to remember the last time he’d turned any of it off.   
  
Thundercracker fought down his confusion and tried to think about it in simple terms. He could keep himself in denial and have it continue to interrupt precious television time, or he could set aside a part of his schedule to self-face. Fantasize about putting all those wonderful lessons the humans had taught him to good use.  
  
(Calling Bumblebee was not an option.)  
  
(Calling Bumblebee was  _not_  an option.)

(Thundercracker felt he was reasonable enough to guess what his chances were with the bot  _anyway_.)

No. In the immortal words of a certain human cop, this was something he had to do himself.


	2. More Romantic Comedies Than Probably Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then Bumblebee ACTUALLY turns up.

Thundercracker had gotten broken then fixed again, and retreated. Again. To the embrace of the recorded word: television.  
  
It was easier in television, where most conflicts were solved within an episode, or maybe a season. For a while he just watched old M*A*S*H reruns as its endless, inescapable, pointless war was something he knew intimately. When a history program revealed the Korean War was about three years long he felt cheated – three years? About as long as he’d been watching television all alone.   
  
He changed tacts again, trying to find the opposite, something that would keep him from remembering the war at all – family sitcoms, children’s cartoons, porn.  
  
Porn didn’t really help, the old fantasies about Bumblebee resurfaced although admittedly thinking about love was better than thinking about war.  
  
It was around that time when he was feeling irritated at himself when someone walked into his place (didn’t anyone ever knock?).  
  
“Thundercracker?”  
  
“I don’t want any pizza.”  
  
“…What?”  
  
Thundercracker’s brain finally caught up to him. He was alone so long he forgot that other people were real. He scrambled up, staring at the little yellow bot walking in.  
  
“Just a human –“ porn “…thing. It doesn’t matter. Is there some sort of crisis?”  
  
Bumblebee stared up at him, smiling but confused. “What? No. Why would you think that?”  
  
“Do you think people come looking for me when everything is perfectly fine?”  
  
And now the little bot looked embarrassed. Good. Thundercracker was just telling him how it was. This would turn out fine as long as he didn’t think about what he had been thinking about – oh. He looked away from Bumblebee, trying to force that disconnect back.  
  
Bumblebee just moved to come into his eyesight again. “Okay, so I haven’t been the best at keeping in touch –“  
  
Thundercracker snorted. Bumblebee continued, “But this is important.”  
  
So he had come for a reason. Thundercracker quelled his disappointment. “It’s always important.”  
  
“We’re going home.”  
  
Home.  
  
 _Yet all they want to do is fly away._  
  
Thundercracker had heard. Heard Cybertron calling him back. He just ignored it. He still had things to learn on Earth. He had grown to appreciate it here, and he certainly didn’t appreciate being thrown in with all the others again. Post-war Cybertron was not something that sounded pleasant.  
  
“Have fun.”  
  
Bumblebee paused. For a split second something crossed his face, a certain kind of sadness – pity? Thundercracker couldn’t place it. But he was earnest enough when he spoke - “Do you want to come with us?”  
  
A laugh track on the television. Thundercracker didn’t bother turning it off. “With the Autobots?”  
“Not as one of us if you don’t want, but when we go we can make a place for you.”  
  
Thundercracker didn’t know what to say. And he knew Bumblebee was being honest, even if the other Autobots wouldn’t necessarily agree with him. He could almost see Prowl’s watching, suspicious optics. It meant a lot that Bumblebee had gone out of his way to invite him, to offer him the choice.  
  
It was the choice he appreciated, even if his spark ached a little when he gave his answer. “No. I’m going to stay here.” This time he really did turn away, not wanting to see Bumblebee’s reaction.  
  
The little yellow bot’s voice was small. “Oh. I’m not sure why I expected any different.”  
  
Thundercracker didn’t reply.  
  
“I guess this is goodbye, Thundercracker.”  
  
The seeker stared at the screens, watching a family putter about their home without really seeing it. “Goodbye, Bumblebee.”  
  
He could hear Bumblebee turning to go, but there was something screaming in his processor – something that countless movies and shows had taught him.  
  
 _It ain’t over ‘till it’s over._  
  
This was probably the last time he was going to see Bumblebee.  
  
 _You don’t got nothing to lose._  
  
His fantasies were just that – fantasies. Stuff to fill the whole of lonliness. But if he didn’t act now – and he very vividly remembered a small boy chasing after a small girl to tell her he loved her, on Christmas, before she left his country – and he remembered all those movies where a lover dies or leaves.   
  
 _One last chance, gotta make it count._  
  
“Bumblebee, wait!”  
  
The bot was at his door now, and he stopped, looking around. “Did you…?”  
  
Thundercracker walked over to him, just a bit faster than necessary. “I haven’t changed my mind.” He stared down at the short little guy, a bit sad he never did bring him a pizza. “But before you go –“  
  
A pair of fingers under Bumblebee’s chin, lifting his face up. Like in the movies. And he leaned down, bringing his face in close, just like in the movies. He hesitated. What was he  _doing_?  
  
 _The kiss has to happen at the very end._


End file.
